


Spices and Blood

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Longing, M/M, Slow Build, awkward Anthony, eventual slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony always has a soft spot for his boss... but does Carl even notice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony’s hands are beyond bloody after all these years. In fact, he fears that the stain is so deep that any other touch could infect the skin of his friends, family or Carl. Sure, Elias’s hands are stained, but not directly. Carl calls the shots and Anthony does the dirty work. So the older man’s hands are stained indirectly… but they still have been bathed in the blood of the corrupt and the innocent alike.

And as time drags on, Anthony figures that he must like staining Carl’s body with the fresh blood, likes showing off his handiwork. Like a child covered in dirt from a baseball game, running to show his mother the grass stains and brag about his homerun. Except he’s a grown man, with a gun and a bloodied jacket, and Marconi has no tales to spin. Instead he sits there in the kitchen, quiet as a mouse, and listens to Carl’s plans as his boss toils in the kitchen.

Elias likes cooking; in fact, he’s in the kitchen often enough that Anthony fears it may be his boss’s obsession. But the hit man says nothing and quietly gets off on the image of Elias’s ass as he bends to pull things out of the stove, or reaches for a spice. His longing is simply that, unnoticed, unwanted. Elias does not respond to the side stares, not at all. So Anthony learns to keep his place, hold his tongue and work in private.

Even if Anthony has to sit there in the kitchen, eyes closed and head tipped back as he works himself over needily – trying to picture Elias bending over or perhaps the way he’ll lick the fork after every meal. Toes curling, breathing subdued, the man arches some and comes over his fingers with a strangled feeling in his heart.

_This is wrong. But it feels so right._


	2. Chapter 2

Anthony enjoys killing Simmons more than he’d care to admit. But he loved watching the corrupt cop gasp and claw at the wire, eyes rolling back in his final moments. It only adds to the moment that Elias was watching him kill the older man off, and the fond words of friendship sink closer to Anthony’s heart than the killer had hoped for.

That night, the ride back to their hideout is silent. Elias in the back seat leant back against the inky shadows and the sounds of sirens in the distance. Anthony glances around at the roads, and occasionally catches sight of Carl in the rearview mirror. The man looks undeniably upset; Anthony had never realized how close he and Carter were. Jealousy nipped at him.

They ate dinner in silence. Pork and gravy, with a side of biscuits. Elias seemed locked in some deep concentration, probably planning his next moves. The city was right in his palms now; all he had to do was squeeze. No HR, hardly any Russians and the small gangs of the Aryan Nation stood no chance now. Everything had fallen into place… with the one loss of Jocelyn.

As Carl stands by the sink dully washing the dishes, Anthony hovers over his shoulder, wanting to reach out and comfort the man. But he never knew how. It had always confused him – guilt and remorse. Anthony had never felt such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony had a rough life.

If you were to ask Anthony when he was a child, what he wanted to be when he grows up. The boy would smile and exclaim, “I wanna do science! Grow things in labs, just like dad!” No one would have thought the little boy that walked home day after day, through sleet and snow, would grow up to be a murderer. No one would have even taken a second to care about the tattered, dirtied clothes. Or how his lunchbox was empty, full of old bread and some crackers – if he was lucky.

If you look at Anthony now, with the ugly scar curling down over his face and the dead look in his eyes, you’d know the cute little boy from his past was burned through life. You’d realize a second too late, when the barrels pressed against your temple, that perhaps, you should have cared more about a young, lost boy. But then again _, why bother_?

Carl knows from experience that Anthony had a rough life, and he pities his hitman. He worries over the past, wishing he would have been there to do _something_ , because he’s seen too many smart kids addicted to drugs. Messed into dealing and making the stuff. Or addicted to killing.

So now, he subtly tries to make up for lost time. And there is not a lot Carl can do. He can’t go back in time and raise Anthony to be someone he’s not. So Carl throws his effort into food. His specialty had always been cooking.

 Every night, if theres time, he’ll prepare a modest meal for the two of them. On occasion he’d glance toward the empty seat, where Carter used to sit on the rare visits, and whisper a prayer in thanks under his breath. Anthony always looks at the food with great appreciation, and Carl can only imagine what it was like as a child, scrambling for food and crying in hunger. He imagines Anthony back then, a scrawny little thing who wanted to do well in life, wanted to succeed.

Carl ponders the old saying, “ _The way into a man’s heart, is through his stomach_ ,” And he grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAHHHH, sorry I haven't been writing. Been... preoccupied.  
> Anyways, heres some murdering husbands, who will EVENTUALLY lock lips, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

“This is good,” Anthony says stiffly from across the table, fork stabbing into his choice cut of rare meat and humming in delight as he watched the reddened juices spill forth from the wound. Carl eyes him from the length of the table, nods in delight and goes about eating the remains of his mashed potatoes. The mob-boss hasn’t even started on his steak.

“That’s great; it took a great deal of effort to make those correctly. A local chef told me they sear delightfully, so I took his word for it. Looks like he was right.” Elais chirps happily, now scooping the rest of the puffy potatoes into his mouth and savoring their sweet and salty taste. God, he was a great chef.

Clearing his throat again, Carl folds a corner of the yellow napkin out of habit. Anthony had been shot this morning, right through the car window as he drove Carl to a meeting with some rival gangs of Russians. Safe to say these people weren’t playing fair. Carl had been so upset at the time that he’d asked Anthony to ‘ _take care of them_.’ Which of course translated into the man’s head as, ‘ _Hunt them down and kill them_.’ And that’s exactly what he’d done, hunted those bastards down one by one and gave them a death fit for a king. Four people dead within twenty four hours, Anthony had almost outdone himself.

This of course was very distressing to their duo in the shadows, and Carl had been absolutely tickled with the sight of a visibly distressed Mr. Finch at his door. How’d they sweet talked their way through his guards was beyond Elias, actually, Anthony was the only man who was worth a damn anymore.

Finch had known that Anthony had killed those men – he always knew, and that troubled Elias, but the man was too wary of Reese to actually act out against the man’s intuitive eyes. Anthony could fight Reese, but Carl didn’t want to risk such fine fighters in a meaningless battle. His real goal was the deal with the Italians and finally wipe out the Russian problem.

When Carl shook hands with the ever eccentric Harold Finch, he could feel Reese glaring at him from the shadows. He almost felt suffocated and disturbed by how heavily John’s aura seemed to clog around Finch, almost like a protective barrier.

‘ _Really, could the two be any more obvious_?’ He’d smirked to himself and invited them in, which Finch chuckled and denied carefully – they had a previous engagement. This greeting simply served as a warning. Anthony had to be more careful. As they walked away, Elias caught a shrill glimpse of Reese resting his large paw on the small of Finch’s back, guiding him up the stairs. ‘ _Apparently they can_.’ Elias mused to himself, lost to the previous thought.

“Hows your arm?” Carl asked gently, breaking the tension that always seemed to form between them. Anthony swallowed what was left of his food in one go and if Elias looked closer, he could watch as the man’s throat contracted and swelled with food. A rather large lump of food and Anthony pounded a hand on his chest with a muffled cough to force the bite down. “You should really chew your food; the Heimlich maneuver is rather hard to preform.” He teased in good humor, which made a goofy grin rest on his friends face for a moment.

“Arms fine – kind of sore, but it’s okay…” Anthony mumbled, looking at their plates and standing up, dutifully gathering them up and following Carl into the kitchen. He helped dry the dishes, standing side by side with the mobster, arm bandaged up and throbbing. It wasn’t a bad shot – nothing fatal by any means, but it still hurt like hell. The bullet luckily didn’t need to be dug out, merely skinning his arm and taking a chunk out of the flesh. It’ll heal within the week.

Once finished, Carl turned towards him, standing face to face with the man and smiling in his natural way. “Well, thank you for the help. But you look awful; try to get some sleep, alright?” Elias whispered, reaching up to smudge a smear of ash from Anthony’s killing spree off the mans scared face. The way his partner tensed and nodded dumbly at the touch made Carl grin predatorily. “Good night, Anthony.” He whispered again, in a softer and kinder tone. Nodding to the man once, Carl walked out of the kitchen, leaving Anthony to stand there and gawk.

Anthony didn’t sleep very well. In fact, he tossed and turned so much that now his shoulder was alight with agony, and his heart was a jumbled mess of emotion and confusion. But for some reason, he was absolutely gleeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. So I've decided to push this thing along these two really need to kiss! 
> 
> Also, I've set my mind on two separate sex chapters. Due to the fact that I can't decide which of these two murderers I want to top, they both get a go at it~!
> 
> D'aaaww, Anthony, you are so shy! Its almost flattering.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I started shipping these murderers.   
> More to come.


End file.
